A Close Encounter
by lothlorienlust
Summary: University aged Sherlock and Molly stuck in a cupboard.. what's going to happen? One-shot Sherlolly *credit to SerendipityDreamer for the intimate section*


**Disclaimer: No ownership here unfortunately**

**A/N This is my first attempt at a one-shot and a Sherlock fic but I am such a fan of Sherlolly that I felt it needed to be done! I hope you like it I would love to know how I did with the characters who may be a bit OOC as they are at a University age!**

**I was inspired to use University characters by 'When the Sun Stands Still' by ****_Petra Todd_****.**

**After a call for help the kiss scene was written for me by ****_SerendipityDreamer_**** so all credit goes to her for that story saving section marked with two *s :) I can only hope my story does it justice**

* * *

Being blindfolded was not how Molly Hooper had wanted to start her university experience. The music boomed loudly around her as she was steered through what she assumed were crowds of her new laughing peers.

It was her fault for turning up late, Molly realised. After all, arriving an hour past the start time to a Fresher's flat party was not the best idea. It had been decided by her new 'friends' that her forfeit was to be locked in a cupboard and… await her surprise. A bit childish Molly had thought whilst she was ceremoniously pushed into the closet.

Standing and waiting in silence, unsure of what her 'surprise' would entail, she sighed. Backing up into the wall of the enclosed space she went about untying the scarf from around her eyes, only to find herself still in complete darkness save a thin strip of light outlining the door. In vain, she attempted to rattle the handle though this only resulted in the door staying determinedly shut and jeers sounding from outside.

* * *

"I'm telling you Mycroft, it does not concern me" a low voice insisted into his phone not waiting for a response "you _know_ I have no interest in these university traditions, I won't be going" he continued.

Sherlock Holmes was pacing along the grass surrounding his new 'home' on the campus, his long black coat wrapped around him against the cold. Whilst the university was a brand new experience for him, Sherlock had no intention of becoming an actual 'student' he insisted to his brother. Being ridiculed for his lack of experience was something he could usually endure. However, tonight his patience was wearing thin and upon hearing his brother mention girls, the boy stopped in his tracks anger boiling up inside him.

"Mycroft you know very well I am not... Just because I don't pay attention to women doesn't mean I couldn't" he retorted running a hand through his dark curls in annoyance.

"So what I've never kissed a girl!? What interest is it to you?" he replied to his brothers taunt from the phone before hanging up in irritation, realising only too late that someone else had been listening.

* * *

Sat on the floor of the warm closet, Molly began to feel sleepy. It must have been a while she thought to herself upon remembering that she was still waiting for a surprise. It was only when Molly thought she had been forgotten and started to allow her eyes to drift shut that she heard a commotion coming closer.

"This one's never kissed a girl!" jeered a male voice

"Let go of me!" came a second lower voice from the other side of the door which was followed by scuffling, the sound of skin hitting skin and then a sequence of swearing.

The lock on the door clicked and the sudden glare of light momentarily blinded Molly. She was vaguely aware of someone being roughly shoved onto her and then her immediate groan under the weight of this 'surprise'. Before she could make out more than the fabric of a black coat and a mess of black hair the room was plunged back into darkness. Molly sat there in silence, breathing heavily as the body next to her seemingly came back to life.

With most of his senses blind Sherlock was left to deduce what he could. The space was small, stretching slightly he could have guessed it was less than two arms lengths all around him. He was aware of hitting someone on being thrown into the room and feeling the soft cotton fabric underneath his hands, hearing the gentle groan upon impact and smelling the scent of vanilla Sherlock knew this person was female.

Steadying himself he tried to stand up though in the small space his hand landed on the girl instead of the wall resulting in his fall back down.

"Ow?" she yelped at his sudden weight as he sat himself back down not bothering to apologise. Turning towards where he knew the door was, he pushed hard against the wood. When this failed he reached up and started to twist and pull at the handle to no avail, wincing slightly as his hand stung; punching his captor probably hadn't been the best idea. He took a deep breath but was interrupted as the girl readjusting herself led to her ungraciously kicking his shin; it was his turn to groan.

"Ugh, sorry" the girl laughed nervously. Sherlock merely massaged his leg, glad that at least someone found this situation amusing.

Though the muffled music filled the silence Molly was hyper aware of how small the room was with two occupants. Sitting facing each other their bodies were less than an arm's length away from another and it seemed he was keen to keep it that way.

"So, come here often?" Molly asked, cringing at her own failing attempts at breaking the ice. The boy in front of her sighed and in the darkness Molly could imagine he was most likely rolling his eyes at her stupidity.

"What… what I meant was…" she started again mumbling only to be interrupted.

"You wish to know how I came to be here in a closet?" the boy answered his voice low, cold and unattached as though he was already bored of this situation.

Molly nodded and then realising he couldn't see in the darkness murmured in agreement.

"I was ambushed by that… child… after he overheard a private phone conversation. Unlike yourself, I knew turning up late to a party like this would have its consequences. I planned on avoiding it completely"

Molly was taken aback at his insightful reply and was about to ask how he had known when the boy answered her unanswered question.

"How I knew? You're breath. You haven't been drinking and either you came to the party not intending to drink- unlikely. The other possibility is you didn't have time to drink anything before you were forced into this room. Therefore, the most plausible explanation is you were late and this was your forfeit." He finished, this was less of a question and more of a statement and one Molly couldn't fault.

The half silence fell again and Molly, now conscious of her breathing, focused on making no noise and sneaking looks up at the boy who sat in front of her. This was made easier by the lack of light but when she did steal a glance up she could make out very little. The light from the cracks between the door and the wall lit the very edges of his face and Molly flinched slightly when his eyes suddenly flew open.

"What's the purpose of this?" he asked suddenly taking no notice of Molly's moment of fright.

"Um…. I _think _it is meant to be a version of Seven Minutes in Heaven" she laughed awkwardly knowing how stupid it sounded but from the situation it was what she had deduced.

"Seven Minutes in Heaven?" the boy asked his voice raising as he closed his eyes again in thought, trying to piece together what this could mean.

* * *

*Molly traced the lines on her palms with her fingers, nervously chewing her lip and tasting the cherry Chapstick she had put on earlier. In the darkness of the closet, she could make out the form a few inches away from her. The stranger's legs were awkwardly folded in front of him, as the closet didn't provide him with much space. Molly pondered about how tall he might actually be when she saw him turn towards her. At least that's what she thought she saw. She wilted a bit when he had only been reaching for his pocket, and she tensed when a soft swear escaped his mouth.

He turned to face her, pointing at her wrist, "Do you have the time?"

Molly was grateful that the darkness of the closet hid her face as she blushed about five shades of pink. She nodded and briefly as lit up the small face on her watch, "It's eleven twenty-two."

The man swore again, "Only two minutes. Fantastic."

Molly frowned and shifted uncomfortably, dropping her hands into her lap, "You don't like parties?"

The man snorted, as if he had just heard a bad pun, "The only reason I'm here is because my drunken roommate thinks I 'have a stick up my arse' and that I need to 'have some fun.'"

Molly cocked her head, "Well, are you? Having fun?"

Molly could practically feel the man's glare, "I'm in a dark closet against my will. What do you think?"

Molly swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around herself, "Well, I'm sorry I'm such horrible company."

They remained silent for a few moments before the man sighed, "What's the point of this idiotic game anyway?"

Molly pressed her lips together and dropped her arms with a timid shrug, "Well, you go in the closet with someone for seven minutes, and you...well you snog."

The man snorted again, "Well that sounds rather dubious."

Molly smiled a bit and blushed, "It's actually good fun. An anonymous snog, a nice fantasy to go home to..."

The man shifted slightly, appearing almost nervous, "Completely anonymous?"

Molly nodded, "I could be the Queen for all you know. It doesn't have to be a full blown snog, just a quick kiss even."

Molly's stomach flipped as she saw the man shift towards her, adjusting himself so that he sat with his legs folded under him. He reached out to touch her, and she gasped as his fingers traced her chin. He flinched back, but she shook her head and grabbed his hand, silently telling him it was all right.

There weren't words anymore, and Molly was just fine with that. She didn't think she could talk anymore, not with the man's fingers tracing the features on her face. Even in the darkness, he was trying to figure out what she looked like, where he would kiss her. She saw his face inch closer to hers, and she could barely make out the man's eyes. They were icy blue with flecks of green, like one of those high resolution pictures of a galaxy in National Geographic. She tilted her head and shut her eyes, waiting for his lips to touch hers.

Her breath hitched as it happened, his hands holding her shoulders as their lips awkwardly met. Their noses were squished together and Molly did what she could, shifting so that her hands were on his hips and he had the choice to stretch his legs out.

The man did so, pulling back to stretch his legs before he grabbed her face once more. He was more confident this time, parting his lips slightly as one hand roamed down to squeeze her hip.

Molly blushed as she crawled onto his lap, straddling his hips as she ran her tongue along the seam of his lips. They parted hesitantly and Molly gently pressed inside. Their breaths caught in unison as their tongues met, intertwining and making everything feel that much more intimate. Molly's hands wandered to the man's hair, soft luscious curls, as his hands gripped her hips more firmly. He pulled her down a bit and, oh god he was hard.

"Time's up, lovebirds!"

A girl opened the door opened and light poured in, blinding the tangled beings on the floor. Molly shielded her eyes and gasped as she felt herself being pushed back off of the stranger's lap. She caught herself, balancing herself on her forearms. As the world came into view, Molly studied the mystery man, and he certainly wasn't lacking in looks. He looked completely debauched. Dark and wild curls were plastered to his forehead, his lips were flushed pink, a few shades darker than his face was. His pupils were blown wide and his hands were folded over his lap.

Molly blushed and tried to straighten out her shirt as the man cleared his throat. He nodded awkwardly and stood slowly, his pants likely much tighter than they were before. The man muttered a quiet apology before he bolted from the closet, nearly knocking over the girl who had opened up the door. Molly raised her fingers to her lips, utterly confused and wanting more.*The image of the dark haired, high cheek-boned man imprinted in her mind; a face she wouldn't forget.


End file.
